While the Superior cogitated, "How-do, Brother Etienne?" said Nicholas, and they nodded.
Brother Etienne brought the rest of his heavy body half inside the door. He wore aged, weather-beaten breeches, and a black sweater over an old hickory shirt.
"Ses compagnons l'ont laissé, là, je crois. Mais ça ne durera pas longtemps."
"Faudra bien qu'il reste ici—je ne vois pas d'autre moyen," said the Father. "Enfin—on verra. Attendez quelques instants."
"C'est bien." Brother Etienne went out.
Ol' Chief was pulling the Boy's sleeve during the little colloquy, and saying, "You tell." But the Boy got up like one who means to make an end.
"You haven't any time or strength for this—"
"Oh yes," said Father Brachet, smiling, and arresting the impetuous movement. "Ziz is—part of it."
"Well," said the Boy, still hesitating, "they are sorry, you know, really sorry."
"You sink so?" The question rang a little sceptically.